by Laura Fleetwood | Jul 6, 2011 | Uncategorized
Note to Reader: The following narrative is based on information I learned through informal interviews and witnessed with my own eyes while visiting several villages in Uganda in June 2011. It does not describe a particular woman or family, rather it is my attempt to create a picture for you of their daily life with as much detail as possible. Any similarity to a real family is purely coincidental. As you read this narrative, picture yourself, your wife, your children. Perhaps then you will begin to understand not only with your head, but also with your heart…
She wakes just before the first rays of sun pierce the black hole of darkness. With no clock to help raise her weary body, she relies on decades of the same daily rhythm. Her body feels the rising sun as a sixth sense. She picks herself off the red dirt floor and gingerly removes the dress that covered her 4 sleeping children throughout the night, protecting them from the chill and disease-bearing insects that constantly threaten. As she puts on the dress – all she owns except for another reserved for Sunday and special occasions – she wishes for the thousandth time that she had a few blankets or scarves to cover her sleeping children so that she, too, could be warm in the night.
She takes a moment to pause and ask God to protect her children for just one more day, to provide enough food to fill their bellies and keep them safe from the daily threats of insects, dehydration, and malnutrition. “Amena,” she reverently whispers. She quietly lifts the 8 month-old baby out of his deep sleep to nurse him. She is grateful that her milk is keeping him healthy and wishes there was a way that her body could likewise sustain even the older children.
She puts the baby down near the oldest daughter, 10 years old. After one last look at her sleeping children, she heads out of the two room mud hut into the breaking dawn of the day, stopping at the outdoor “kitchen” where there is still a bit of water in the dirty yellow jerry can. There is also a bit of leftover matooke (steemed plantain, otherwise known as green bananas) that she grabs and swallows down cold. It only serves to make her stomach rumble more, but she prays it will give her the strength she needs until she can stumble across some fruit in her morning work. She heads to the garden with a machete and basket to do what she can to nurture the garden – the lifeblood of their lives.
Meanwhile, back in the home, which is so small that two adults joining hands could each touch one wall, the baby has roused the other children. They don’t even look for their mama, for they know the routine. There are no clean clothes to change into (wash day is usually once a week, and they only have a few articles of clothing anyway), so they tumble out of the home to search for a place in the grass to empty their bladders. The baby, wearing no diaper, goes as he pleases. The children also search out the leftovers from yesterday’s early evening meal. There is no “I want this,” or “she got more.” They are grateful for their portions and eager to share with the youngest of the bunch.
The 10-year-old straps the baby to her back and begins to tidy the area around their home. She sends the two middle children to the water well – a good 15 minute walk – to fill the jerry can with water for the day. As they set out on their journey, they are grateful for the well in their village that cut down their walk from several miles one way. A generous congregation paid $6000 to have it installed, and it changed their world.
On their way to the well, they encounter many other children on common missions, and also pass the chickens and goats that make their homes in the yards of their neighbors. They are always on the look-out for a ripe mango or jack fruit that would help their bellies feel full for awhile. Thank goodness the rainy season is over, so the chance of finding fruit is much better.
As the mother and children work, they hum and sing the songs that are as much a part of them as their physical bodies. They do not, however, dream about their future as one might expect. “In Uganda, we don’t see beyond the nose on our face,” I was told. It is enough to get through just one day at a time.
Around noon, the mother comes home with some cassava (similar to sweet potato), maize, and firewood that she gathered on her way home from the garden. She is storing up the maize to sell, in hopes that she can earn enough money to send her oldest daughter to school, as there are no public schools around. She begins preparing the cassava for the evening meal using the open fire and kettle. The children sit around the home, occassionally playing with a stick and old tire or makeshift ball made of dried grass and cornstalks. The girls have no need to “play house,” as they have real babies in their care. If their stomachs get too hungry, they may find some sugar cane to gnaw on.
Around 4pm the evening meal is ready. Once again, it consists of matooke along with some rice and maize. Salt is the only seasoning in an attempt to bring life to the bland food. How the mother wishes she had some chicken or beef to provide much needed protein for her children. She notices the younger children developing distended abdomens – the result of so little protein in their diets, but livestock is a luxury that is out of their reach.
After dinner there is not much else to do. The woman uses a razer blade to shave the hair from her children. With no hair, cleanliness is easier. The sun will set before 7pm, and with no electricity there is little reason to stay awake in the pitch darkness. The family does have a bit of paraffin remaining in their only lantern, but the mother wishes to reserve it for emergencies. Another day has come and gone.
With food in their stomachs, they settle down for another night. The mother once again removes her dress and covers her children. They are blessed to have a thin mat to sleep on, but no mosquito net for a barrier against the dreaded disease of malaria. One child has already been lost, and the mother prays that her other children will be spared. With their physical father no longer in their lives, their collective prayers are sent up to their Father in heaven who watches over them. “Sleep well, my dear children. One day your pain, hunger, thirst, and toil will be no longer. You will rest in my arms, for the kingdom belongs to such as you.” With this promise as their only hope in the world, the family sleeps only to do it all again tomorrow by His grace. Amena.
The next post will show actual pictures I took of the homes and people in Ugandan villages along with some true stories of their spirit. Stay tuned…
by Laura Fleetwood | Jul 4, 2011 | Uncategorized
Imagine that you wake up one day in a place very different from all that is familiar to you. Everywhere you look there is something new to see and experience. You stare in awe at the unfamiliar sights and sounds, trying to take it all in, but sensing that you can only absorb so much.
Your first reaction is amazement and wonder. You try to discern what it must be like to live “like them,” but your mind can’t even wrap itself around that possibility. With each new discovery, you make comparisons between here and home. Your first instinct is to determine which is the better of the two. At first it seems like no contest. Home, with everything easy and familiar, is certainly superior to this strange land. With every heartbreaking story you hear, you wish you could take these people home to experience the wonder of our luxuries and conveniences.
Yet, as you see into their hearts, you wonder…do I really have it better at home? Am I really “better off” than they are? On the surface it’s an easy answer, “Of course!” I have running water coming from several sinks, a refrigerator and cabinets filled with food, electricity that allows me to work any hour of the day, televisions, iPods, excellent schools, cars, stores, opportunities, and the list goes on and on.
But these “things” can be misleading. How many times do they get in the way of the non-tangibles in life? How often am I too busy to pray or spend time with my family because of all those “conveniences” and “opportunities.” How often is going to church a burden because I have so many other things to do?
As these deeper thoughts start running through your mind, you realize that the answer to which world is best is that there is no answer. My world and their world were created by the same amazing God and were contaminated by the same sinful people. They are both equally beautiful and ugly in their unique ways. The challenge is to get past the “I am right, you are wrong” and do what you can to enhance the beauty and diminish the ugly.
In essence, that is what I learned from my visit to Uganda. That we, who have so much in terms of material wealth and conveniences, can do so much to fill in the ugly gaps of the people in Uganda who have so many physical needs. At the same time, the Ugandan people have so much to teach us about living in faith one day at a time and honoring the truly sacred things in life.
In the next series of posts about my experience in Uganda, Africa, my goal is to share with you both sides of the Ugandan world – the intense beauty of the land and people, as well as the shocking state of their living conditions. It is my prayer that through this examination of their world, your eyes will be opened to how you can make a difference there and also in your own life here at home. Please check back tomorrow to read about a typical day in the life of a Ugandan woman and child. Thank you for sharing this journey with me.
by Laura Fleetwood | Jun 23, 2011 | Anxiety, Uncategorized
Planning is fun. Leaving is hard. Over the past few months I have managed to compartmentalize this trip into a neat box sitting on the shelf. Every day I knew it was getting one step closer, but still it remained an adventure yet to be fully realized. About a week ago, reality began to set in, and my emotions went into full overdrive. How in the world could I leave my family to travel to a third world country. Would they be ok? Would I be ok? So many things could go wrong. Before long I was planning my own funeral, and the reason I was going in the first place was left far behind.
Why do I do that to myself? The what-ifs consume the present and strip my life of all the joy God intends. Is my need for drama so significant that I have to invent it out of thin air?
Last night was a tough night. My bags were packed, last-minute preparations made, and all I needed was to get a good night’s sleep which was easier said than done. 11pm, 12am, 1am…the hours ticked on with no apparent relief in sight. 7am finally arrived. Saying goodbye to the girls and to Justin was difficult. Both girls not wanting me to leave…Audrey’s tears and Anna’s “I love you, Mom,” ringing in my ears. 12 days seemed like an eternity. By the time Justin dropped me off at the church with a tearful goodbye (from me), I was a walking zombie just trying to keep my breakfast down! A prayer and send-off picture was all that was left before heading to the airport.
Thankfully, once the journey really began, my nerves settled down, and I actually started to enjoy myself. Now, two flights later and with a few Dramamine-induced hours of rest, I am sitting on the plane in Brussels waiting to travel another 8 hours to Entebbe, Uganda!
I don’t know what God has in store for me on this journey, but I do know that I am grateful for every bit of it, even the pain of leaving. Stepping out in faith has a way of making everything a bit brighter and the most important things more clear.
So thank you for your prayers! I have already had the most fascinating conversations with my team members and with a Ugandan man I sat next to on the way to Brussels. It’s amazing how God gives us exactly what we need, when we need it!
The journey has begun, and I am ready!
by Laura Fleetwood | Apr 2, 2011 | Uncategorized
It was early afternoon, four years ago, when I slid to the kitchen floor sobbing hysterically with an infant in my arms as my 2-year-old stubbornly refused me, yet again. I look back and know that I was at the end of my rope. Yet I never let anyone know, not even my husband. I never reached out for help, stubbornly striving to make it on my own. How might those days have changed if I had let someone in?
Then last autumn, after three horrific days of not being able to sleep, anxiety crashing over me, the pressure of too many commitments, too little joy, I knew I couldn’t do it on my own any longer. It felt like my world was coming apart. My husband must have wondered what happened to his independent, head-strong wife as I lay on the couch knowing I had to pull it together for a workshop in the morning, yet realizing I was too tired to even be able to drive there without putting myself and others at risk.
I clutched the phone and called my mother. As I opened up and told her about the incessant insomnia, something shifted, and I felt lighter sharing my burden. She offered to get up ridiculously early, pick up my sister, and then drive to my house to take me to the workshop. Incredibly, even in that moment of desperate need, my first instinct was to brush away the offer…but this time I had to accept. That’s the amazing thing about asking for help. Others are usually more than happy to give it.
Through that experience and others like it, God has shown me that we are not meant to walk this life on our own. Dependence on others, and on Him, is at the core of His loving plans for us. All we need to do is look at the life of Jesus to see that even though He could have accomplished everything on His own, He chose to work through others. The disciples, the woman at the well, the most unlikely characters, were all instruments of God’s love because Jesus let them into His life. Through that inter-dependence and partnership, He touched lives in powerful ways.
So, when this opportunity to go to Africa presented itself, I knew I had no way to make the funds available in such a short amount of time. I stepped out of my comfort zone, asked for help, and my friends and family responded in amazing ways. I have no words to describe the feeling of gratitude I have knowing that so many want to be part of this journey with me. I am so very humbled that God would use this mission to show me once again that IT IS NOT ABOUT ME. That in accepting help and allowing others in my life, I can experience the most incredible feelings of unity and fellowship.
Not only did I receive enough gifts to get me to Uganda this summer, the generosity far exceeded the cost of the trip. So those extra funds will now be available to support a future mission opportunity and allow the gift to be extended far beyond myself.
I wish I could say that it has become easier for me to ask for help, but it is something I struggle with every day. Just last night I was feeling sorry for myself as I had three things cooking on the stove, Anna was needing attention, and Audrey asked, “why are you so crabby?” I curtly responded that I just had too much to do. She immediately replied, “then why don’t you just ask for help?” I took a deep breath, turned, and did just that. As we all worked together to get dinner ready, I marveled that God, yet again, used a child to remind me of His desire to make ourselves vulnerable, to ask for help, and give it freely, as well.
My your heart be open to dependence on The One who sets us free and those He puts in your life to share your journey.
For those of you who may be interested in an opportunity to share your own journey of dependence on our Heavenly Father and connect with other women, please check out the She Speaks Conference web site. Ann Voskamp also has an opportunity to win a scholarship to attend!
by Laura Fleetwood | Mar 7, 2011 | Uncategorized
This is a story of how whispers become action. How God works in, around, and through us to open our hearts to things we never could have imagined. This is the story of how last week I was looking forward to a relaxing summer, and this week I am looking forward to a summer mission trip to Africa…
I remember hearing my Grandfather preach a sermon called “Just Around the Corner.” It was a long time ago, so forgive me, PopPop, for getting some details wrong. But the gist of it was that we can plan all we want in this life, but the reality is that we simply don’t know what is just around the corner. I’ve seen this truth played out in so many ways. Sometimes the thing just around the corner is wonderful and joyous. Other times it is heartbreaking and devastating. Other times it is neither good nor bad, just unexpected. But ALWAYS, it is part of a grander plan than we can see or fathom, and ALWAYS our Heavenly Father sends his Spirit and His Son to accompany us through it.
So, back to the story about how I find myself going to Africa. It would be much more dramatic to tell you that I heard a voice from God telling me to go, or that I spent hours on my knees praying for guidance. I’m afraid the truth is much less exciting. The truth is that I have known about this mission trip for months. Our church has sent teams of people to this village in Uganda every summer for close to 10 years. I always thought that I would like to go SOME DAY, I just didn’t think it would be TODAY. So, I heard the announcements about informational meetings and dismissed them the same way I do other things that aren’t on my immediate radar.
In the meantime, several other things were converging. My Sunday Morning Women’s Bible Study was reading The Hole in the Gospel, by Rich Stearns, President of World Vision. It is an amazing story about the immense human suffering occurring in our world and our responsibility to do something about it. You should really put in on your reading list. Secondly, I had been feeling a nudge to be careful about becoming too comfortable in my middle-class existence. It’s nothing I can really put my finger on, just a feeling that I am blessed and often don’t appreciate it enough. Thirdly, I had a strong desire to write about something other than myself. I love blogging, but it seemed time to branch out to something different, as well.
This was the backdrop when our Sunday Morning group invited the leader of the Uganda mission team to talk to us just one week ago about what our church had done in that small village. Although I have paid close attention over the years and was even on staff at the church when the ministry first started, I was overcome to hear about all the ways God has used our little congregation to make a difference in a tiny, remote village in Africa. Building a well, sending dozens of orphans to school, building a church, providing seeds for gardens, fabric for sewing and of course the much-anticipated annual mission trip of providing food and activities for over 1200 orphans and widows. THIS is a story worth telling, I thought. And just like that, the seed was planted.
What if God could use my writing ability to record this story of two unlikely communities partnering to change the world one orphan at a time? Wouldn’t it be neat for our church to have this story preserved, so we could share it outside our four walls? Past mission trip participants, the Ugandan children, the Ugandan Pastor, our leaders, everyone has a unique perspective to share, and God has woven it all together. It would be amazing to share their stories with other churches, organizations, and people.
And then, like many ideas do, it went off to sit on a shelf somewhere in the library of my head.
Later in the week, I happened to see our pastor while waiting to pick up kids at school. In the second it took to decide whether or not to tell him about the idea, I debated whether it was silly. But, I got up and walked over, anyway. It turns out that it wasn’t silly and sharing the story of our church’s partnership with Nakabano, Uganda might be a great tool in spreading awareness about how we can all make a difference in this world by the Grace of God.
I was feeling pretty good. I didn’t know what would happen from there, but I could certainly start documenting how the mission had started and begin talking to people who had been impacted by their involvement. Something still lingered, though…like a whisper or a nudge. I didn’t “hear” the voice of God, but I am a very intuitive person – just ask my Myers-Briggs type indicator – so I generally “know” when something is prodding me. Maybe I should go.
This is where the story gets interesting. On a whim, I sent an email on Friday morning. Yes, just 3 days ago!
When is the Uganda mission trip this summer? Is it too late to sign up to go? I’m thinking about it…
Laura
I honestly thought that might be the end of it. I figured that the deadline had come and gone, so the reply was surprising:
Dear Laura,
Today is the day I order tickets…We had been waiting on someone to get their birth date in so she could make that purchase. IT IS NOT TOO LATE…but I would need to know soon…like by Monday at 9am. I can get you started. GO!
So much for being off the hook. Through a series of unrelated events, the deadline had been serendipitously extended on the very day I happened to inquire. Thus, events were set in motion. I wasn’t anxious about going, but there was the small matter of how I could acquire $3000 to pay for the trip with the money due just over two weeks away. As an aside, let me tell you that I am not a person who really wrestles with decisions. As I mentioned, I am intuitive and just tend to know if something feels right. I don’t need a list of pros and cons or a weighty deliberation. I usually just decide, and that is that. So, after an enlightening conversation with our pastor, I was leaning toward going on this trip and trusting in God to help me find the money. However, there was still the question about how my husband and kids would handle this bit of information.
As usual, Justin was more than supportive. With the added encouragement of other family members, I decided to take the plunge. Four drafts of a request for sponsorship letter, 70 envelopes, and a passport renewal form later, here I am.
Anna and I dropped off the letters at the Post Office this morning, and it felt so surreal. I knew there was no turning back after we dropped them into the blue box, so before we got out of the van I asked her if she would pray with me about these letters. Anna is 4 years old. She immediately closed her eyes as tightly as she could, clasped her little hands and said without a word from me (imagine the sweetest little voice you ever heard),
Dear Heaveny Faver,
Please let Mommy go to Africa. Amen.
Such are the moments we carry for a lifetime. I couldn’t have said it better, myself. So now we wait. We wait for the logistics to play out. We wait to see how God works through the wonderful people in my life to help me raise $3000 in just two weeks. It seems crazy and impossible, but we hold on to faith and let go of fear. You never know what you’ll find just around the corner…
Stay tuned to this blog for updates about my journey to Africa! The story has just begun! If you are interested in being part of this story and would like to pray for me or give a financial donation, please email me at laura@sparkworkshops.com. Please note that I will not receive any monetary reward for anything I write about this trip or mission. Any proceeds will go directly to the people of Uganda.
by Laura Fleetwood | Mar 3, 2011 | Anxiety, Uncategorized
It was evaluation time, again. That wonderful time of year when I get to see exactly what my students think of me, no holds barred. 24 feedback surveys from last semester’s class. Fabulous results. Great scores. With the exception of 2 forms with hastily scrawled comments.
The instructor has an annoying habit of clicking her teeth at the beginning of her sentences when she talks. Instructor annoys me and ALL the class when she clicks her teeth. I find it hard to concentrate.
You HAVE GOT to be kidding me, the voice in my head responded. I have been teaching college courses for over three years with glowing reports. Nobody has ever mentioned this to me before. My stomach dropped, my face turned red, and I immediately went into defense mode.
I do not click my teeth. I would notice if I did something that annoying. I have won presentation awards and heard myself on tv and radio. There is no chance I do that. It must have been the students I caught cheating trying to get back at me. And on and on and on.
After about 30 minutes of stewing and brewing (yes, I admit that 2 little comments worked me into a tizzy – I’m obsessive like that), I calmed down and started thinking logically again. I had a class coming in 20 minutes, so I decided to put myself to the test. I was on hyper-alert for any teeth clicking. Smirk.
To make a long story short, when I go into “teacher mode,” I do indeed have this tendency to start my sentences with a click like I’m ticking off a checklist. I don’t do it in regular conversation or even when I give a presentation, but there it was like a slap in the face.
I made it through that class without one single “click” and made a promise to myself that I will never annoy my students that way, again. After class I mentioned the comments to Justin who said, “Oh yeah, you do that on the phone sometimes, too.” I gave him my best if-looks-could-kill glare. Who knew?
Since that dreaded incident, I’ve been thinking about why those comments hurt so badly. Why wasn’t I open to hearing feedback that in the end would make me more effective at my job? I’m convinced it comes down to ego. I spend so much time trying to inflate my sense of worth that any critique really does hurt. Oh, but how willing I am to point out all the things that others do wrong! Perhaps not verbally, but my head constantly rings with criticism. It’s not a nice place to be.
Matthew 7:5 reminds us, you hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye. If I’m honest with myself, that is exactly what I am. A hypocrite. Thankfully, I am still loved by many, hypocrisy, teeth-clicking and all!
So, here’s the thing. It can be difficult to know constructive criticism from hurtful criticism. One comes from genuine love and care. The other comes from dark places of jealousy, hatred, and fear. The real question we must ask ourselves is this: Will this advice or criticism make us more of who we are meant to be? Is there an element of truth, no matter how hard to swallow, that could help us move forward on the path God has given? If the answer is yes, think about it. Pray about it. Give it a test drive. If the answer is no, let it go and move on.
Some of the best advice I received while working in the corporate world was to avoid being a sponge with hurtful criticism. Be a duck instead and let it roll right of your back! If we would all be a bit more open to constructive feedback and more dismissive to hurtful feedback, the word would be better place.
So…another lesson learned in this adventure called life: Sometimes the truth hurts, but anything can be overcome in the spirit of love. Any annoying habits that you want to share with the world?
by Laura Fleetwood | Feb 22, 2011 | Uncategorized
Feet pound the pavement. Breath labors too fast, and I tell myself to BREATHE. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Every urge tells me to pant faster and faster. Instead, I slow down my breath. Slowly, rhythmically, I get it under control.
Why did I sign up for this? One mile disappears behind me. Another. My knee goes out and I limp along. Refusing to give up half-way through today’s goal, I run through the pain one step at a time until it begins to fade.
The wind pushes against me. The sun soaks through my skin. 3 miles of concrete have passed. One more to go. I measure the next goal ahead. Just make it to that large tree. Now to the bridge. I can’t think about the total distance, only the next visible target. This is why I run. The impossible becomes possible…one step at a time.
Isn’t that the way of life? Even big dreamers know that the dream cannot be achieved in one giant leap. Some days are mundane. Some are muddy and messy. I trip and stumble often. If I try to see too far ahead, I always falter. But I know this. I know that He holds me tight. My steps are led by Him. One at a time.
by Laura Fleetwood | Feb 14, 2011 | Uncategorized
Happy Valentine’s Day! It may be a made-up holiday, but Valentine’s Day is a good reminder that showing love is important. There have been three deaths just recently that have made me intensely aware of the fleeting nature of our lives. One spirited, dearly beloved mother passing of cancer in her early 50s. A high school friend, mother of an 8-year-old boy, dying suddenly at the age of 34. A 24-year-old mother, dead in a tragic car accident, leaving her young daughter in intensive care. It doesn’t make any sense. Lives cut short. Changed for ever. In an instant.
I bet their loved ones wish they could tell them they loved them just one more time….
So, today I take stock of all that is precious to me. Don’t wait for one day of the year to tell your loved ones what they mean to you. You never know when it will be the last time.
Make a list. Make a phone call. Send an email. Write on a wall. Tell the people in your life why you love them today. Many can’t, but you can. Tell them today and tomorrow and the next day. Your words of love may be the greatest gift you can give. Just a few of the many reasons I love Him…
- He warms up my side of the bed for me. Every night. Without fail.
- The way he teared up for weeks after Audrey was born…just talking about her.
- He never complains about “silly time” with the girls. Even after a long day.
- He chose me.
- I still get butterflies when I hear him coming in the door.
by Laura Fleetwood | Jan 31, 2011 | Uncategorized
And it begins…
1. The feel and smell of the baby-shampooed head leaning on my shoulder.
2. Wood, stacked and fridge, full in preparation for the winter weather ahead.
3. Shiny pennies just restored through the unlikely polish of ketchup.
4. Candles lit by little hands.
5. Reaching out and connecting with strangers.
6. Four weeks of still.
7. A mother’s healing.
8. A precious, new baby boy to call nephew.
9. Quilts and cable knit blankets.
10. Time here and now.
Would you like to share your thanks for the gifts in your life?
by Laura Fleetwood | Jan 31, 2011 | Uncategorized
Her six-year-old hand cautiously strikes the match, and she slowly, reverently gives light to the candle. I’m struck by the care she takes. Her pride in performing a task that I take for granted. Small eyes watch the flame dance, the smoke swirl into snakes. An ordinary evening meal transformed by a single candle in our midst.
Have you ever noticed that children do not naturally hurry? Yes, they run and jump and swirl and twirl, but they do it on their own terms, in their own time. I, on the other hand, feel as though I’m never NOT in a hurry. Too many tasks, too little time and always that clock is spurring the minutes and hours further and further away from my grasp.
So many topics wrestled in my head this week, fighting their way here to my screen. But hurry was the one screaming loud and clear. I read this sentence in Ann Voskamp’s book, One Thousand Gifts and was stopped dead in my tracks. Right there on page 67 she says, “Hurry always empties a soul.”
It does.
How many times have I known this in my heart, but not had the words to make it known to my head. I see the way my girls’ eyes grow dim when I rush them about with no patience. Out the door. In the car. No time to chase that bird, Anna. Are we late, again, Mom? She asks with a seriousness that should not be displayed in her face of only four years. Yes, we are late. Too late to take back the sharp words and unforgiving stare. Too late to stop the crazy, busy day and spend a few minutes in prayer. Too late, too late, too late.
Jesus was never in a hurry.
I stumbled across that sentence today in my notebook, scrawled during a sermon a few weeks past. Of course He wasn’t! Hurry always empties a soul, and Jesus always fills it. He always had time. Time for the woman at the well. Time for the sinners and the seekers. Time for me.
In Him it is never too late.
Is it possible then to take the Hurry and turn it into Healing? Can I really live in this world of schedules and commitments and expectations without letting the hurry run over me and through me? Can I live like Jesus and seek the still not just for a day or a year, but in everything?
Not on my own, and not for myself. If I try it that way, the hurry, the soul-emptying, wins every time. But thankfully, God is there in the moments of hurry. I have seen it happen. No, Anna, we are not late. I am sorry for rushing. Let’s give thanks for that beautiful bird!
His healing hand triumphs and fills, if only I give the moment to Him. The control, the worry, the fear can be replaced by The Eucharisteo, the giving of thanks, even in the moments of hurry. And then, instead of seeing the clock hands tick ever toward the undone, I can remember that the Maker of time has already done all that matters. In His time, I walk the journey and learn the lessons and give thanks.
I am praying this week for God to still my tendency to hurry about my days. To…slow…down…and praise Him for the gifts of the moment. Join me?
by Laura Fleetwood | Jan 23, 2011 | Uncategorized
“Mommy, will you play pet shops with me?” the little voice pleads. I sigh and look up from the computer, stare at my to-do list a mile long. I begin to utter the familiar words, “Not right now sweetheart. Maybe in a little awhile.” Then I remember. Soon I will be the one begging for time spent together. Soon playing with mom will be the last thing on her list.
I look at my list again. It is filled with the demands that make my days speed by too quickly, as I rush around without taking the time to be still. Work to pay the bills that keep coming. Chores to clean the house that will get dirty once again. My words catch in my throat. “Yes, darling. I will come and play with you.” Her eyes widen with the surprising answer. “You will?!?” She skips merrily down the hall, and I know that for once I got it right. I made the right choice. The work and the chores will still be there waiting for me, but for now I am going to sit on the floor with this precious one, stare into her eyes with wonder, and be part of her world. It may not have been in my plans, but sometimes plans are made to be broken.
Dear Readers – I offer a golden nugget recommendation to you today. It is a newly-released, life-changing book by Ann Voskamp called One Thousand Gifts. Ann has long been one of my favorite bloggers at A Holy Experience. Over the past few years, she has influenced my parenting, my writing, and my dreams. And now she has a beautiful book that will inspire and most certainly help you seek the still. You can see the trailer for the book in the video below, and you can even join me and the online book club, Bloom as we read it together and listen to Ann speak about each chapter. Let me know if you pick it up. We can discuss it together!
by Laura Fleetwood | Jan 13, 2011 | Uncategorized
A wise man once said, ‘”To be still sometimes requires great effort.” That is according to my new box of Tazo Rest tea! It is true, though, what the wise man once said. Here I am, two weeks into my quest to seek the still in 2011, and I am already feeling like it could easily be a losing battle. My grand plans for meditation and prayer time, nightly bath soaks, yoga by candlelight, and long walks in the woods have been replaced by the reality of a new work schedule, three jobs, kids’ classes, dinners, housework…you get the picture.
Yes, it takes great effort to be still.
Or does it? Maybe my grand ideas are worthy to explore during this journey, but perhaps they are not the entire answer. Maybe the still is right in the midst of the daily toil. Maybe it’s there in the snow day morning when my girls climb into my bed to share their dreams from the dark night. Maybe it’s in the lingering kiss with the love of my life, stolen in the middle of the busy kitchen. Or in the flames leaping in the fireplace, and the little toes warming nearby. A game of checkers with the blue-eyed, golden hair girl who is too quickly becoming a young lady. A chuckle with the hazel-eyed darling with the heart of gold.
The still is everywhere, really. Our loving God has given us eyes to see and ears to hear all of the blessings each day brings. But how often we shut them out. How often we breeze right through without thanking Him and praising Him for the gifts.
I have been given a marvelous reminder of the beauty in finding the still in the midst of the ordinary. It’s in the form of a majestic owl who perches on barren tree branches on a nearby, busy road. We see him almost daily now, as we drive from here to there. My eyes search the trees for his majestic, white chest and piercing, wise eyes. He has become my reminder to seek the still in the mad rush to make it to the next destination on time. I will him to be there. To remind me to slow down and take notice.
How many times did I drive right by and just not see?
Our Heavenly Father seems to have a history of giving divine meaning to ordinary things. The Savior of the world born an ordinary baby with an extraordinary life ahead. An ordinary shepherd boy who would become the greatest of kings. Fishermen and tax collectors who led a revolution to bring light to a dark world. Maybe, just maybe, in the midst of our ordinary lives, He brings the divine to us. And most amazing of all is that we are told, “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him.” 1 Corinthians 2:9. One day, as God’s children, we will be in the presence of the One who made the still. The Creator of all things good and lovely.
The best is yet to come, my friends.
Do you want to join me in taking notice of these daily divine moments of still? I am starting a Seeking The Still journal. Nothing fancy. A simple book to jot down moments as they occur. To give them weight on paper. To remember. To share. What are some of your moments of still from this past week? Will you share in the comments below? Will you invite others to do the same? I will randomly select someone from the comments to receive a personal Seeking The Still journal! Just leave a comment below and either sign in or leave your email. Check in next week to see who won!
